Joanlock: Back to the Start
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: Don't hurt her again, he repeated to stave off the temptation to shoot up, to end it all, to head back down the pathway to hell. Joanlock if you squint. Rated K . Post-A Controlled Descent. Spoilers.


**Back To The Start**

 **A Sherlock and Joan Story**

 **By Brown Eyes Parker**

 **Rated: K+**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Author's Note: The title comes from** _ **the Scientist**_ **by Coldplay.**

 **.**

 _Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me. . ._

 _Don't hurt her again,_ he told himself over and over again as he dug his nails into his skin, leaving bloody half-crescent moons as he came off his high and sank into despair for all his failures the past three days. The sweet siren's call of a sharp needle and blissful numbness beckoned him to come for a second round, a third one. . . going until he disappeared into oblivion for the rest of his life.

 _Don't hurt her again,_ he repeated to stave off the temptation to shoot up, to end it all, to head back down the pathway to hell.

She came up to the roof and talked to him, her voice sounded like an AM radio station, fuzzy and distant. He tried to answer her but the words were stuck in his throat, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even bear to look at her because their would be disappointment in her beautiful almond shaped eyes.

The next thing he knew, she was taking his hand and leading him downstairs to his bedroom.

"Didn't you notice it was raining?" Joan asked as she helped him undress and handed him dry clothes.

He looked at her, the disappointment he had imagined would be there was nonexistent. Instead, there was concern and care. He shook his head, still unable to speak to her. He hadn't realized it was raining, he hadn't realized anything. He was numb, frozen, not himself.

He didn't think he would ever be back to normal ever again.

"You're shutting me out," Joan said, pulling a sweater over his head before helping him get into bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.

 _I'm sorry,_ he tried to say but the words didn't come out.

"Stop it," she told him putting something under the covers with him, adding instant warmth.

Sherlock grabbed her wrist as she started to leave.

" _Help me. . ."_ Sherlock finally managed.

 _Before I lose myself for good,_ he thought.

Joan nodded, sat down on the edge of his mattress and didn't take her eyes off of him. "I promise."

The next day his father showed up, he listened at the top of the stairs as Joan talked to him, begging him not to evict them because they had nowhere else to go, promising to help him and make sure he stayed sober. His father yelled and swore and it was all Sherlock could do _not_ to go downstairs and physically hurt his father, to scream and say it was all _his_ fault. Nobody treated _his_ Watson like that and got away with it.

But after a few minutes it was all over. The yelling stopped and the door closed, Joan came upstairs looking grim.

"We can stay," she said. "But there's a catch."

"There always is," Sherlock answered. "Well, what is it?"

"Your father is purchasing the brownstone next door," Joan told him. "To keep an eye on us, to make sure we don't get in anymore trouble."

"Like we're children in need of a babysitter," Sherlock said bitterly. "Does he know somebody else is already living there?"

"He's willing to pay a great deal of money to persuade them to move out."

"There he goes again, ordering everybody around like he owns the world. I hope the owners stay put," Sherlock said. "It would serve him right."

"Maybe he just cares about you."

"Maybe he just wants to control us," Sherlock retorted, he softened his tone and looked down. "He's never cared about me, Joan."

"Well, he's here now and there's nothing we can do about it," Joan answered, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. "Come on, you need to be eat. It's been days since your last proper meal. Don't make me force feed you."

"I'm not hungry," Sherlock said.

"You're going to waste away to nothing if you're not careful," Joan told him.

"Maybe that's what I want."

They looked at each other, both shocked by the admission he had just uttered even though they had both been thinking it.

"Please don't talk like that," Joan whispered, looking at him with the disappointment he had been afraid of for the past few days.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered back.

"I'll be downstairs," Joan said, turning to go and not looking back. 

Sherlock stood frozen and watched her go as everything in him screamed at her to follow her. He was terrified that she was the last good thing left in his life and that she would disappear in a second if he didn't tread carefully.

 _You hurt her again._

She was in the kitchen, dropping a dollop of butter into a frying pan and cracking eggs into it.

"I didn't mean it," he said.

"Didn't you though?" Joan asked. "Isn't there a book somewhere that says out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Well, I suggest you _start_ thinking then. You aren't the only person in your life, you know!" Joan answered.

"I _do_ know that!" Sherlock replied. "You. . . you're. . ."

Joan shook her head and flipped so vigorously, he was surprised she didn't break a yolk in the process. "Don't force yourself Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed. "Joan you have to know how important you are to me."

"I don't though," Joan said, putting the eggs on a plate and shoving it in his hands. "Eat! Do you want some toast?"

"Eggs will be fine."

"I'll make toast," Joan answered.

It allowed her to be busy for a few more minutes, it allowed her _not_ to look at him. He was off of the roof and he was talking to her but she could still feel the distance between them. She wondered if it was getting to him too.

She made toast and he sat down, ate everything on his plate because he didn't know what else to do.

"Did I mess everything up so badly between us?" He asked her.

"Did you?"

"You're obviously angry with me."

"It isn't you."

"Oh."

 _Talk to her._

"I am sorry," he told her. "I didn't want to disappoint you. Never you."

"I know," Joan answered.

Sherlock studied her intently, looking for falsehoods in her eyes and didn't see any. She really did know that he never wanted to let her down or disappoint her. She was just having trouble believing him.

"We're going to get through this," Joan said more for herself than for him.

 _Please,_ Sherlock thought to no higher deity in particular but to every single one that he had ever learned about . _Please let us get through this somehow. Let us go back to the start._

 **_The End_**

 **.**

 **Author's Note II:**

 **I feel like this is just a different version of my last Elementary story, To Know and Love What You Live With. But the dang finale is sticking with me and I can't seem to get away from it. Sorry if this feels a little incomplete, it was unintentional. . . but I didn't know where else to go. Please tell me what you thought! Looking forward to seeing your reviews.**

 **Until Next Time!**

 **Love,**

 **Holly, 6/11/2015_**


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